


When You Find You

by cherishedlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Cheating Louis, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt Harry, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Infidelity, M/M, Marriage, Panic Attacks, Prompt Fill, Triggers, Tumblr Prompt, prompt, this is all angst, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishedlarry/pseuds/cherishedlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry, babe, come on. Talk to me, love. Breathe. You’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here. Shh, I’m here. It’s okay.”</p><p>But that was the problem. Louis was here and Harry didn't want him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Find You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from thisloveisreal1 on Tumblr. (Thank you!!)
> 
> Title from "Come Back To Me" by David Cook.

Harry hasn’t managed to turn a single page in the tattered copy of _Catch 22_ for the past twenty minutes. Gemma had leant it to him a few weeks ago but actually getting through the novel, this paragraph, even, is beyond Harry’s current capabilities. And for good reason.

It’s impossible for Harry to focus on anything besides the whereabouts of his husband. And he’s sick of it.

The relationship between the two had gone to utter shit in the past few weeks. Harry can’t remember the last time he felt genuinely happy.

He knows where Louis is. That isn’t the issue that is playing on his ability to focus. It’s, instead, the knowledge that Louis is with another man. And he’s been seeing him since the beginning of September. Now, in late October, Harry’s finished. To say he’s at his wit’s end would be a wild understatement.

\---

Harry had figured out the other side to Louis’ life about two weeks ago.

After getting back from an early evening jog, a habit he had picked up once Louis had started pulling his vanishing act, he had taken a relaxing, cool shower. He remembers being lulled into a sort of hypnotic state by the easy flow of the water and by watching the sweat and grime swirl down the drain.

He had been in the process of drying his hair with a towel when he saw it.

While an open box of condoms wasn’t exactly what you would call a rare sight in the Tomlinson household, this particular open box made Harry stop and look. Because the box sitting on the bathroom counter, their spare box which Harry certainly hadn’t touched in at least a month, was not only open but only had three condoms remaining inside it.

He picked up the box and stared into it with a furrowed brow. He’s not sure what he had expected to happen. He supposes he was hoping that it was just a trick of the light. That, by bringing it up for closer inspection, he would see that the box was, indeed, closed and had all of its contents still inside, completely untouched. But, alas, the three condoms were the only ones that remained. Harry felt faint.

He tried, fuck did he try, to think of a logical explanation. He wanted to give Louis the benefit of the doubt; wanted it more than anything. But the truth was right there in his hand and he simply couldn’t deny the facts.

All the signs that he had been blatantly ignoring throughout the past few weeks were suddenly in his face, screaming at him, telling him he was so, so stupid. He could think of nothing but his husband’s betrayal and his heart felt like it had dropped into the pit of his stomach.

The late nights, the constant smell of stale liquor and sex, and the half-assed explanations used to dismiss both; everything had been in his face the entire time. Harry had just been too full of hope and trust to see it.

If he had just paid attention, asked questions, maybe he could have stopped it before it spun so out of control.

He heard the front door open, signaling Louis’ return, and suddenly Harry couldn’t breathe. His hands began to shake, one of which was still holding the evidence.

“You home, babe?” Louis called, his childlike voice sounding through the luxurious house.

Harry felt like he was about two feet tall, insignificant and helpless. He couldn’t catch his breath and, before he knew it, he was in the midst of a full-blown panic attack. He threw the box back into the drawer where it belonged before his knees gave out, simply unable to hold the weight of the world any longer. He collapsed into a shattered heap, the cold bathroom floor sending a shockwave through his already sensitive bones.

And that’s how Louis found him.

He hadn’t been sure about how much time passed from the moment of Louis’ return to the moment he found the despondent Harry. All he knew for sure was that Louis was trying to hold him together, strong arms wrapped around his trembling frame. But Harry, for once in his life, couldn’t stand the feeling of Louis’ grip.

He had wanted to blame this whole thing on Louis. But he just couldn’t. He knew he had a huge part in this as well. He simply hadn’t been good enough for Louis. He couldn’t give his husband everything he needed, everything he desired.

Worthless. Empty. Disgusting. Inadequate. Nauseous.

Oh shit.

Harry threw his body forward, barely reaching the toilet in time to empty the contents of his stomach. His body heaved as Louis’ hand stroked up and down Harry’s trembling back, unaware that his touch alone was making things worse. But Harry had neither the energy nor the words to tell him so. He was only slightly aware of Louis’ voice, probably hushing him and trying to settle him with words of comfort. But his voice was falling on deaf ears. Ears that were unwilling to listen.

After what felt like hours to Louis yet seconds to Harry, the panicking boy began to catch his breath and think coherently.

“Harry, babe, come on. Talk to me, love. Breathe. You’re okay, you’re okay. I’m here. Shh, I’m here. It’s okay.”

But that was the problem. Louis was here and Harry didn’t want him to be.

\---

Harry never told Louis what he knew. He’s not sure why, exactly, he kept it a secret. He supposes he just wanted to hold on to the little bit of hope he, somehow, still had.

But Louis was still unfaithful.

He still went off to the other man at least once a week, unaware of Harry’s newfound knowledge. But the thought of confronting Louis about it was too anxiety-fueling for Harry to even entertain. Every time he thought about doing it, his chest would start to tighten and he would convince himself he’d just do it tomorrow. But Harry’s tomorrow never came.

He whole-heartedly had believed Louis would wear himself out. The affair, in Harry’s mind, would help run these feelings, whatever they were, out of Louis and soon he would return as Harry’s and Harry’s alone.

But now, sitting with the worn-out copy of _Catch 22_ in his hands, sprawled out in the half-empty bed, Harry can see the error in his ways. He’s just been fooling himself all along. Louis isn’t coming back of his own accord. Harry has to intervene. No matter how much it scares him, his unfaithful husband has left him no choice. And it’s devastating.

Realizing attempting to read is beyond hopeless, he glances at the clock on the bedside table- 2:43 a.m. He sighs, shutting the book and tossing it to the floor. He’s pretty sure he hears a few pages fly out, fluttering aimlessly to the ground. He’ll have to apologize to Gemma for that whenever he returns it. He shuts off the light at his bedside and lays down.

The silence of the surrounding room is stifling. He bundles his shivering body underneath the duvet and, within mere seconds, the emotional and physical exhaustion take over and Harry is out cold.

\---

He smells Louis before he sees him, the scent of liquor awakening him from a restless sleep. He opens his eyes slightly to orient himself, the deep blue of dawn filling the surrounding space. He hears a rustling and shifting at the bureau across the room and he knows it means Louis’ just got home.

Harry sighs a deep breath and turns over to face his husband. He takes one look at him and knows he’s far past the point of tipsy. When Louis turns around, now holding a fresh pair of boxers (and Harry really doesn’t want to think about why he’s changing out of his old ones) and sweatpants, he startles slightly when he notices Harry’s looking at him with hooded eyes. Even in the dim light, Harry can see how glassy Louis’ eyes are as he flashes him a guilty smile.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean t’wake you.” His voice is slurred, deeper than usual. Louis always was a lazy drunk. “Imma change then I’ll come t’bed.”

“You need to shower. Please. You smell like a liquor store,” Harry replies, shutting his eyes and rolling over so his back is to Louis.

Louis is silent for a minute before he responds. “Uh, yeah, sure. Sorry.” And with that, he walks out of the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

When Louis returns, Harry is still awake. He’s relieved to smell mangoes now instead of booze but the devastation he feels is palpable. It’s almost like a kind of smog, engulfing the room, filling his lungs and suffocating him.

Harry wonders if Louis knows something has changed between them. If Louis knows what’s about to happen. If Louis knows he’s been caught. Because, instead of assuming his normal big spoon position, he remains on his back, a few inches of space left between their bodies with their souls feeling miles away from each other.

The two boys lay in the deep blue in silence for a few minutes, breathing labored and bodies paralyzed by anxiety and fear.

“Who is he.” Harry’s question comes out in the form of a statement, his deep voice shattering the fragile stillness that had settled in the room.

Louis lets out a hearty breath as he closes his eyes. This is it. This is the end. “You know,” Louis replies in lieu of an answer.

“I’ve known for a while, Louis.” And Harry really wishes he didn’t sound so broken and helpless. “Who is he?” Harry ventures again. He just wants answers. God knows he hasn’t gotten any the past month. And maybe even before then. How long has Louis been scooting by in their relationship on nothing but lies and fabrications?

The next few minutes pass in an uncomfortable, terse silence, with Harry simply waiting and Louis too petrified to open his mouth.

“His name’s Jared.” Louis’ voice is more tentative than Harry’s ever heard in their ten years as a couple. Harry closes his eyes, willing them to stay dry, as the few remaining pieces of his world come crashing down in a devastating heap.

The same hands that touched him, the same hand that bears his (apparently meaningless) wedding ring, the same lips that caressed Harry’s own, the same mouth that said their wedding vows five years ago, have all touched another man. Harry feels disgusting. Dirty. And he hopes Louis feels the same.

Harry flips over to face Louis now, wanting to gauge his every reaction. “When did it… when did you… first…?”

And although Harry’s sentence comes out in mere fragments, Louis knows what he’s asking. And as much as he doesn’t want to, he knows he has to answer. “Two weeks.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Harry’s voice trembles.

Louis suddenly feels stone-cold sober. “I… we… it might have been… three weeks?”

Harry sits up in bed, needing to be above Louis to feel like he has control over the situation even though his mind is telling him that he doesn’t. “We both know it’s been longer than that, Louis.”

Louis stares at him, eyes unseeing and glossy, almost looking as if he were about to cry. But Harry knows better. Louis, while admittedly is a weeper, certainly will not break down now. He’s spent weeks building up a resolve, probably even fabricated lies to tell should they ever reach this point.

 _Well here we are_ , Harry silently communicates to him. _Let’s see what you’ve got_.

“It definitely hasn’t been that long, Harry. What would even make you think something like that?” Louis always was one to play innocent.

“Because I found them,” Harry’s voice is surprisingly stoic.

“You found what? You being cryptic isn’t helping right now, Harry,” Louis bites back.

“I found the condoms, ok? You left them on the bathroom counter two weeks ago. And I found them. I put all the pieces together after that,” Harry finally admits.

Louis deflates at his side, resolve beginning to crumble. “Why didn’t you… tell me? Why is this just coming out now?”

“You are not pinning this on me, Louis,” Harry defends in utter disbelief.

“I’m not, I’m not. Just… why didn’t you mention this before? We could have, I don’t know, talked about it?”

“What exactly is there for us to talk about? You cheated on me. End of discussion.”

“If you told me you knew, I would have stopped,” Louis states harshly.

“So, what, this was all a sick game to you? It was about getting caught?” Harry questions, blinking rapidly, disbelieving. “I didn’t peg you as that stupid, Louis.”

“No, that’s not it,” Louis says around a sigh.

“Then what the fuck is it, Louis? Was I not good enough for you? Did I not say ‘I love you’ enough? Did I not kiss you enough? You better start fucking talking and you better not give me anymore bullshit answers.” Harry only swears when he’s pissed beyond reason and Louis knows he’s absolutely screwed.

“I just… I got-” Louis can’t get the words out.

“You got what?” Harry practically shouts, the little patience he had remaining long gone.

“I got scared, ok?” Louis voice is hard. “I was scared.” And now it’s suddenly soft and fragile.

“Scared of what, Lou?” Harry suddenly feels an overwhelming rush of sympathy. It’s an unwelcome feeling, one which he knows he shouldn’t be experiencing, but Louis looks beyond broken lying next to him. And it’s _Louis_. Louis who knows Harry better than anyone else. Louis who loved him long before he even loved himself. Louis who became one with Harry all those years ago in that tent at Leeds Festival. Louis who had been forced away from Harry to parade around with a girl he couldn’t even stand to be near. Louis who, even through their ups and downs, had still come back to Harry every night he was allowed to, and sometimes even when he wasn’t. But none of that meant anything anymore. Love; _life_ was a lie.

Louis shakes his head. “I can’t tell you.”

Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you actually fucking with me right now, Louis?” Harry takes a deep breath in and out, knowing he needs to relax his voice. A harsh tone is not going to coax the truth out of Louis. “Now’s the time to tell me. What are you so afraid of?” Harry asks slowly, sounding the calmest he has all night.

After a long pause that seems to stretch on for eons, Louis finally admits what he’s been holding in for months. “A… a family. You want to start a family.”

Harry’s shoulders sag, head tilting to the side, eyes narrowing in confusion. “Don’t you?”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know, Harry.”

“I… we’ve talked about this before, though. And you were all for it. I thought that was what you wanted. I thought it was what we both wanted.” Harry has never felt more confused in all his life.

“I thought I did. I would never lie about that,” Louis says, running a hand through his fringe.

Harry shakes his head subtly, trying to make sense of it all. “Then what changed? Louis, please, I’m just trying to understand. I’m not mad at you. Just talk to me.”

“Dan,” Louis whispers, barely loud enough for Harry to hear.

“Dan?” Harry stares at him, waiting for further explanation. And then it clicks. “Dan as in… your mum’s Dan?”

Louis nods hesitantly, sitting up. “He, uh… he left.”

“W-what? What do you mean he left?”

“He fucking abandoned my family, Harry. I was so sure, we all were, that he was different. That he wouldn’t turn out like all the others. But something changed in him, Harry. Or maybe, I don’t know, maybe he was like this all along and was simply just good at hiding it. Or maybe we all were too fucking stupid to see it. God knows we’ve never seen the signs in the past. My mum doesn’t deserve this, Harry. My siblings don’t deserve this. I don’t know what happened but, one day, my mum came home and he was just… gone. All he left was a note saying he had already filed the divorce papers and that he just needed her to sign a few things. No explanation. No nothing. Just a piece of paper. I’m sick of seeing my mum cry, Harry. I’m sick of watching her try to fend for herself. Granted, the girls are older now and have jobs so they can help out but still. That burden shouldn’t rest on them. They deserve a life and they deserve to be happy. They don’t deserve to have all the men in their life walk out on them. What kind of example does that set? Why does this keep happening? I’m just so tired of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, Louis? I could have helped you. We could have gotten through this together.”

“No, Harry!” Louis’ sudden outburst causes Harry to flinch. He sighs, needing to gain control again. “No. Just. There’s nothing you could have done. I needed to work through this myself.”

“Well, we both know how well that worked out.” The comment flies out before Harry knows what’s happened.

Louis’ eyes bore into him but he doesn’t retaliate. “I just didn’t want to become that guy. I didn’t want to do the same thing to our kid. And I just didn’t know how to stop it.”

“You were never going to become that guy, Louis,” Harry comforts as he subconsciously reaches out a hand to stroke through Louis’ hair, causing the older boy to close his eyes and sigh in contentment. “You’re better than that. I know you would never do something like that. You know what not to do. You weren’t going to fall victim to that.”

“I get it in theory, Harry, of course,” Louis argues, spite creeping back into his tone. “But I’m simply destined to leave, one way or another. Something would drive me away. Maybe not tomorrow but eventually. I’m not permanent. Nothing is. I’m hopeless. Nothing but a lost cause. And I’m sick of being a burden to you.”

Harry feels his eyes welling up, shocked and devastated by his husband’s genuine disgust with himself. “Don’t you dare call yourself a burden, Louis. You are the most important person in my life. I love you. God, I love you. I love you so much and nothing will ever change that. We can get through this, Louis. We can figure it out. We’ll… we’ll go see a therapist or something. I don’t know. Whatever works for you. I can…”

Louis cuts him off, unable to listen to one more word. “I can’t. Harry, I just can’t. I can’t do this to you anymore. You deserve someone better. Someone better than me who won’t cheat on you or betray you or lie to you or… basically you deserve someone who does the opposite of what I’ve been doing. Harry, I love you. But you’re better off without me.” 

“No. Stop. Don’t say things like that.” Harry reaches out both hands and puts them on either side of Louis’ face, just now noticing that the older boy is crying. And Harry knows Louis is broken. “You’re all I want. You know how important you are to me. You know how much I love you. So stop talking to me like we’re over because I don’t want to be.”

Louis meets his wild gaze, eyes lifeless and dark. “Well, I do. I can’t do this to you anymore. It’s killing me. I want you to forget about me. Find someone that wants the same things you want. Because I don’t. We’re two completely different people, Harry, and we’ve just been fooling ourselves.”

“Louis, stop it.” And now Harry is sobbing. “Don’t you… don’t you dare say that.” Harry can’t catch his breath. “No. You’re not leaving me.”

Louis’ chin quivers as he dips his head low, eyes staring at the duvet draped across his waist. He continues as if he didn’t even hear Harry. “I’m gonna go stay with my mum for a bit. Just to, I don’t know, try and clear my head. And give you some space too. You shouldn’t be around me right now. This is your decision as much as it is mine.”

“If you’re asking me to divorce you, you better come up with another plan because that’s not happening,” Harry retaliates. 

Louis sighs, exasperated and exhausted. “Just… think about it, ok?”

“No. I’m not… that’s not happening, Louis,” Harry says with a note of finality that he hopes will cause Louis to just drop it already. 

“Please, Harry. Just tell me you’ll think about it.” Louis is practically begging at this point. 

The younger boy sighs, running his hands up and down his face repeatedly. He rubs his fists over his itchy and tired eyes, seeing stars. “Yeah, alright. I’ll… I’ll think about it. Yeah.”

Louis deflates at that, pent up tension rolling off his body. “Ok, good. Thank you,” Louis says, voice barely above a whisper. 

Harry nods, glad that Louis is placated at the moment. He’s exhausted, surely in no condition to fight with the other boy any longer. 

The two sit in silence for a while, not sure what their next move should be. Louis breaks the quiet with a shattered sounding, “Well, I should probably pack and head up to Donny.” 

As Louis begins to clamber out of bed, Harry instinctually grabs his wrist. “No.” He clears his throat, hoping to change how pathetic and desperate he sounds. “Just… sleep. Please. You’re exhausted and still really drunk. Just sleep for a bit. I’ll pack for you. I’ll wake you at 11 if you’re not up by then, ok?” 

Louis stares at him, clearly put out, but finally nods and begins to shuffle down in bed. He suddenly realizes just how drained he feels, both physically and emotionally. “Yeah, ok. Thanks.” Louis’ eyes shut of their own accord and he adjusts his body to find the utmost comfort. He turns on his side to face Harry. It’s his normal position minus wrapping Harry up in his arms. But both boys know how wrong that would be at the moment so Louis makes do without it.

Harry cranes his neck to check the time on their bedside clock, 5:14, and decides to take a shower before he sets about packing for Louis. He knows there’s no way he’s going to be able to fall asleep, no matter how tired he feels at the moment, and he knows the best thing to do is to keep himself busy. Without thinking too much about it, Harry presses a light kiss to Louis’ forehead and climbs carefully out of bed. 

He showers lethargically, taking his time to wash his body and massage shampoo into his hair. He has to sit down at one point, naked body sliding on the slippery bathtub floor. But he’s just so tired and standing is using up the little energy he has left. 

Harry always did his best thinking in the shower, always was able to come up with solutions to his biggest problems. He had been hoping, when he climbed in, that today would be no exception. But Harry’s brain is just not up for any problem solving right now.

Instead he just thinks about Louis. But, instead of thinking about how Louis betrayed him, took advantage of Harry’s trust in him, Harry thinks about a bathroom.

Harry thinks about that legendary X Factor bathroom where he had met Louis all those years ago. They were just kids, really, inexperienced and vulnerable, but Louis and Harry had remained a team throughout. When they first got put in a band, Louis was there, jumping into Harry’s awaiting arms even though they had only had a total of two conversations. When they went to the bungalow for the first time as a band, they were unsure of each other and didn’t even know if they had anything to work with. But, apparently, they did. The records they’d broken and the album sales throughout the entirety of their career could attest to that. 

Harry thinks about the first time Louis kissed him. It was a chilly night, late October in the X Factor house. And Harry just remembers feeling so comfortable and warm and complete, as if everything finally made sense. 

Harry thinks about the first time him and Louis made love. And, yes, Harry is one of those people that say ‘made love’ instead of ‘had sex’. Because what him and Louis shared in that humid tent in Leeds deserved more than the label of “sex”. Both boys were, admittedly, tipsy and slightly stoned but there’s nothing about that night that either boy would change. He remembers the sound of The Temper Trap playing their set on a nearby stage, the climax of ‘Sweet Disposition’ matching with Harry’s own. He remembers the crowd cheering for the band although, to Harry, it seemed like they were cheering for the two boys in the steamy tent. 

Harry thinks about when Louis proposed. He supposes, in the grand scheme of things, there was nothing too dramatic about it which, coming from Louis, was a welcome surprise. Harry had always made it clear that, whoever proposed first, needed to do it in a way that went against their lifestyle of high profile and loud theatrics. Louis had done it in the comfort of their second home in LA, leaving Harry speechless and overwhelmed with love for the older boy. Louis had made love to him that night, solidifying and promising he was in this for life.

Harry thinks about their wedding, a small event filled with those they loved and those who loved them in return. Their own families, the boys and their families, and childhood friends. That was it. Nobody in the business and none of their team. Only those who had supported them and been there to offer unconditional love. 

Harry thinks about it all. 

And even though Louis is in their bedroom, still here, he misses him already. 

Harry shuts off the warm flow of water, not wanting to dwell in his thoughts any longer. He needs to do something, needs to keep himself busy and distracted. He dries himself quickly, slipping back into his t-shirt and sweatpants. 

He tiptoes back towards the bedroom, shuffling through the slightly ajar door once he reaches it. The room is still illuminated only by the blue of dawn with it only being 6:17 at the moment. He turns his gaze to Louis, nothing but a bundled up lump in the bed. Harry can hear his quiet snoring, deep purrs escaping with every exhale. 

As much as the concept makes a lead weight drop into his stomach, Harry sets about packing Louis’ suitcase. He flits around the room in near silence, trying to get everything ready as quietly as possible so as not to wake the slumbering boy. A book falls off the top shelf of their closet when Harry removes the suitcase that’s stored up there, which causes Louis to shuffle and mumble in his sleep (and Harry’s pretty sure he hears the words “lemon frog” come from the snoozing boy but he’s not going to question it) but Louis’ even breath soon turns into snores once again as he settles down. 

By the time Harry finishes packing, it’s going on 7:30. His stomach is rumbling, urging him to make his way into the kitchen to prepare some breakfast. He makes enough for himself and Louis, sticking with breakfast sandwiches so Louis can take his on the road with him if he so desires. He brews a single cup of coffee for himself, knowing it’ll only be him drinking it for a while. He’ll make some for Louis whenever he gets up.

The coffee does little to wake him, his eyes drooping and head feeling too heavy for his neck. He puts his empty plate and cup into the dishwasher and makes his way into the living room, sinking into the plush sofa. He turns the television on, flicking through infomercials and 90’s sitcoms until he settles on the news. But listening to and learning about the woes of the world do little to diminish his own. 

Somehow, by some miracle, he manages to doze off, the quiet drone of the television somehow allowing his mind to turn off for a few hours. When he wakes, he frantically checks the clock to see it’s already 10:45. He bolts up from the sofa, nearly toppling over from the head rush, but is able to make his way to the kitchen once again to heat up Louis’ breakfast and prepare his coffee. He figures now is as good a time as any to wake Louis. So he saunters back into the bedroom where a dozing Louis still lays. 

Normally, Harry would wake Louis up with gentle kisses but he doesn’t think that would help anything if he did it right now. So, instead, he settles for gently shaking Louis’ shoulder until he blearily opens his eyes, weighed down with yesterday’s alcohol. Louis groans when the harsh sunshine creeps in, turning away from Harry and attempting to nuzzle back into sleep. 

“C’mon, Lou. It’s almost 11. Time to get up. I’ve got breakfast and coffee waiting for you.”

Louis turns towards Harry at that, staring at him with hooded eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” Louis croaks, sleep weighing heavily on his vocal chords. 

Harry shrugs and straightens up, beginning to walk away. “I know but I wanted to. C’mon. Eat before it gets cold.”

Louis joins Harry in the kitchen just as he’s pouring the coffee into a travel mug, now dressed in a red Vans t-shirt, black trackies, and a faded blue beanie. And Harry can’t help the tiny smile that escapes once he sees the familiar hat perched on Louis’ head because that’s _Harry’s_ and Louis _knows_ that. And Louis’ fashion choices really shouldn’t make him feel so elated.

The older boy gives Harry a tentative smile as he sits down at the table, his breakfast sandwich already waiting for him on a plate. “Thanks for, uh… for making breakfast.” 

Harry never thought he would ever be able to apply the word ‘timid’ to Louis Tomlinson but, this morning, that’s exactly what he is. Timid, shy, and fragile. And Harry hates it. 

“Of course. It’s no… no problem.” Harry really hates how awkward the two of them are being. Harry has never felt as uncomfortable around Louis in their ten years as he does right now. He feels like he’s in the presence of a stranger, Louis being completely unfamiliar and off. He barely recognizes the boy. Hell, Harry doesn’t even recognize himself these days. 

“Did you pack my bag?” Louis asks around a mouthful before taking a sip of his coffee which is done to perfection and made just the way he likes, of course, because it’s _Harry_ and Harry knows him better than anyone else. 

“Yeah. It’s waiting by the front door.” Harry leans against the countertop, nervously playing with a loose thread hanging off his frayed t-shirt. “I packed enough to get you through at least a week and a half. But I’m sure Jay will be happy to do your laundry if you stay longer than that.”

“I’m not completely incompetent,” Louis says around a smile which disappears just as quickly as it arises.

“Never said you were. I’m just saying, you’ve only done laundry once in your entire life.”

Louis breathes a laugh through his nose. “Yeah. And everything ended up pink.”

Harry grins, eyes looking towards the floor. He wishes things could just go back to this, back to the way they used to be. Lazy mornings and quiet cuddles and stolen kisses and bits of banter. He misses it all. There’s an ache in his chest that longs for the normality of him and Louis.

“Well, I should probably, uh, hit the road,” Louis ventures as he slides his chair back from the table, the sound of the legs against the ground breaking Harry out of his depressed thoughts.

“Yeah, uh… yeah,” Harry stammers, dreading the thought of Louis walking out the door. He can’t do this. Dear God, he thought he could do this but he doesn’t think he can anymore.

“Thanks again for breakfast. And, you know, for understanding. And I’m sorry. Again. For everything.”

Harry hates this. He hates the tension. And, as much as he doesn’t want to watch Louis go, he longs to be alone, if only so he can breathe properly for the first time in weeks. “I’ll, uh, just take this down to the car.” He pushes himself away from the counter and heads for Louis’ bag, grabbing it before taking it down to Louis’ awaiting Range Rover.

Louis meets him down there in minutes now wearing shoes (without any socks, of course) and a light sweatshirt, the sleeves extending past his tiny hands. With the suitcase now in the vehicle and the keys in Louis’ pocket, all that’s left to do is say goodbye.

Harry isn’t sure how he’s meant to feel. He knows that a separation is needed at the moment, sure, but that doesn’t mean he likes it. Because who knows how their status will change while Louis is away? Harry can’t lose him. He just can’t. And if this was anyone besides Louis’, Harry would have cut ties as soon as he found the dreaded box on the bathroom counter. But this is  _Louis_. And Louis had been a part of Harry for well over a decade. Nobody would understand why he was hanging on to the man who betrayed every ounce of trust inside him. But, for reasons that couldn’t exactly be explained, he was willing to stick around. He didn’t want to let this go over something that he  _knows_ they can work through. He’s not sure how long it will take, but he’s determined to hang on. And he doesn’t know how he’s going to go about it, he just knows that he will.

“So, uh, I better get going.” Louis breaks Harry out of his thoughts with a timid admission, unable to meet his eyes. Harry  _fucking knows_ he should be mad at him but all he feels is sympathy which is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever admitted to. But now, with Louis looking so fragile and weak in his little sweater, eyes looking at everything besides Harry, he just can’t control his fondness. And he hates himself for it.

“Yeah. Um, drive safe. Text me when you get there, okay?” The request is out before Harry even has time to process it. It’s such a domestic and normal thing to ask, he doesn’t think to bite his tongue.

To his surprise, Louis agrees. “Yeah, sure.”

Before Harry even realizes what’s happening, he pulls his boy into his arms. He squeezes him so tight he’s sure Louis is struggling to breathe. But soon enough he feels Louis’ arms wrap around Harry in return. Harry tries to put everything he has left into the embrace. _I love you. We can get through this. It’s going to be okay. I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t let me go. I love you._ The admissions are all unspoken but he hopes Louis hears them anyway.

When the boys pull away, there are tears streaking down cheeks and sad watery smiles being exchanged. Harry places a single, long kiss onto Louis’ forehead before letting him go one last time. As Louis drives away, he prays Louis knows he will always have someone to come home to.

\---

Louis pulls into the driveway at 4:56pm. He sends Harry a quick text before he stumbles through the familiar front door with a heavy bag in one hand and his keys in the other. He hadn’t bothered to call his mom on the way there, not wanting her to make a big deal out of his arrival. He wanted things to seem normal for as long as he possibly could. He doesn’t even know how he’s eventually supposed to explain himself to her. He knows she’ll always love him and support him but Louis realizes what a dick move cheating is. And Jay absolutely adores Harry. Sometimes he thinks she loves him more than she does her own son. She’s not going to be very happy with him.

“Hello? Anybody home?” And that’s kind of a stupid question because he had seen his mom’s car in the driveway, but whatever. He asks it anyway because he doesn’t know what else to say. It’s not like he’s going to walk in and say, “Hello? So, um, I cheated on Harry. Can I stay here until I figure out what I want?”

He suddenly hears the pattering of feet running down the upstairs hallway and down the stairs. Daisy and Phoebe make it to him first, greeting him with a “Louis!” screamed in unison. They latch themselves onto either side of Louis, the boy having put down his suitcase and keys once they came into view. He knew what their greeting would entail. They may be approaching seventeen years old, but they haven’t changed a bit from childhood in that aspect.

“Hello pretties.” And even though Louis’ mind is swimming with thoughts of Harry, he can’t help but crack a smile at the feeling of his sisters wrapped around him. He wishes Lottie and Fizzy were here too, but both had moved out years ago, starting their own lives.

“What are you doing here?” Phoebe asks as both she and Daisy let go.

Louis ruffles their hair. “What, can’t I come visit my favorite twins?” The two grin at him in return, latching onto him once again.

“We haven’t seen you in nearly a year,” Daisy reminds him. And it’s true. Louis hasn’t seen his family since last December during Christmas. His life really is falling apart. How could he have been so selfish?

“Girls, what’s all the commotion?” Jay asks as she rounds the corner. Her eyes widen almost comically once she sees Louis and, if he wasn’t so torn up inside, he would have laughed. Instead, he practically throws himself into his mother’s awaiting arms and falls apart in her grasp. “Oh, darling, what is it?”

Louis is unable to answer, gasps of breath coming out short as he struggles for air. The tears are plummeting down his cheeks, already soaking into his mom’s blouse. He’s only slightly aware of his sisters’ terrified gazes as he continues to crumble in the hold of his mother, like the child he’s become once again over the past few months.

“Girls, why don’t you go upstairs?” Jay gently chides the twins. The escape is obviously welcomed as they practically bolt to the second floor. Once they’re gone, Jay focuses her entire attention on her son. “Alright, alright,” she coos in a gentle whisper. “Let’s go sit down.”

Jay guides him into the kitchen and urges him to sit down at the table while she prepares some tea. She soon joins him holding a cup for both of them, sitting down beside him. She reaches out a comforting hand to start rubbing his back the way she always did when he was younger. But instead of being a comfort, Louis feels burned by her touch. He keeps telling himself that he doesn’t deserve to be consoled. He doesn’t deserve love anymore. Because God knows he fucks everything up. But he makes sure to memorize the feeling of her touch because she’s not going to be this kind once she finds out what’s happened.

Jay doesn’t prompt him, doesn’t force him to say anything until he’s ready. His tea is more than halfway gone before he finally gets the words out. “I cheated.” His voice is so thin, so fragile, so pitiful. His mother’s hand ceases its movement once he utters his confession.

“What?” she asks, even though she knows she heard him correctly.

“Please don’t make me say it again,” he begs, his grip on his cup tightening.

“I  _am_ going to make you say it again because I surely did not just hear what I think I heard come out of your mouth.” Her voice is a mixture of shock, heartbreak, and disbelief as she removes her hand from Louis’ back.

Louis closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, searching for his center. He opens his eyes then and looks over at her piercing ones which are wide and unblinking. “I cheated, mum.”

She lets out a deep exhale and places her elbows on the table, dropping her face into her hands. “Jesus, Lou,” she says on the tail end of a breath, voice muffled in her palms.

He lets her feel the disappointment and the hurt, watching as she struggles to put on a brave face. Eventually, she pulls her reddened face out of her hands and looks over at him. She takes a sip of her tea and then clears her throat. She schools her face into a neutral expression before saying, “Okay. Let’s start from the beginning.”

So he tells her everything. Jay keeps her poker face the entire time, making Louis unsure of what she’ll say when he’s done. They’re both crying by the end, wiping away stray tears every so often. When he finishes, he continues to look at her, waiting for whatever response she’s about to give him. 

“How’s Harry taking all this?” she asks.

Louis shrugs before taking a sip of his tea, his mouth and throat both bone-dry. “I don’t know. I left before we could really talk about it too much. He’s pissed, as I’m sure you can imagine. But, I don’t know, he just seemed really numb the whole time.”

Jay nods. “Well, yeah. I mean, he’s known for a while now. He’s probably just gotten used to it.”

Louis closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. Just thinking about Harry  _getting used to_ Louis being unfaithful is nauseating. He hates himself. He really does. “I never wanted any of this to happen, mum.”

“Then why’d you let it?” His mom’s voice is filled with such disappointment and sadness, it’s killing him. Harry’s grief was bad enough. He doesn’t need it from his mom. Although, truthfully, he knows he deserves nothing less.

He shrugs again, defeated. “I don’t know. I… I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have done any of it. I’m such an idiot.” He folds his arms on top of the table and slams his head down into them, feeling nothing but pure hatred for everything he is.

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I’m not going to sit here and tell you what you should have done instead. Because I know you’re smart enough to figure that out on your own.” She sighs. “Louis, you’re my baby. And I love you very much. But I’m extremely disappointed in you. I wish you had talked to me. Had talked to Harry. Had talked to  _anybody_. We could have helped you, babe.”

He nods as he picks his head up, knowing full well how right she is. “I know.”

“But what’s done is done. And now you need to do two things. One is you need to figure out what you want. You’ve got a lot of things to think about and reevaluate. And I can help you with some of it but a lot of it rests on your shoulders. And two is you need to give Harry space. Let him sort through everything on his own until he’s okay again. You can’t push him or force him to make a decision. Whether it takes him a day or a month or six months, you need to be prepared to wait. Let him work through everything in his own head first before you try to save your marriage.”

“How will I know when he’s ready? How will I know when  _I’m_ ready?” He sounds so young, so helpless, reliant on his mom to give him the answers to everything.

She puts a hand on his back, starting up her reassuring movements again. “You’ll know. Trust me, you’ll know.”

\---

Harry hasn’t showered in three days. He’s pretty much become one with his bed at this point, the desire to function like a proper human leaving with Louis. But now, on day four, he knows he needs to do  _something_.

He thinks about calling his mom first. But he knows she would insist that he come home immediately and he really doesn’t feel like dealing with her overprotectiveness and unconditional kindness at the moment. She would make him sort through his feelings and all that shit and he really just needs a distraction.

He thinks about calling Gemma. But he knows she would insist they drive to Doncaster so she can beat Louis up. After all, she had given a speech at the wedding warning Louis that she wasn’t afraid to kill him if he ever hurt her little brother.

He thinks about calling Zayn. But he knows Zayn never was one to deal with heavy shit like this. Plus, he was Louis’ best friend and, even though they used to be in a band together, he feels as if calling upon him would violate some sort of code or whatever.

He thinks about calling Liam. But he knows Liam has always been the emotional one of the group, overbearing and always willing to drop whatever he’s doing for anybody. And now, with him being married to Sophia and having two kids, he’s got enough on his plate as it is.

So that leaves only one option. He picks his phone up from the nearby coffee table and starts a new text message.

**you free mate? x**

He texts back almost immediately.

**_yeh want me t come round?_ **

Harry never thought he would be so relieved to have this kid live so close to him.

**yes please… and bring alcohol x**

Harry gets a simple smiley face in return before he sets about making his way into the bathroom. Grabbing some clean clothes on the way, he quickly washes himself, scrubbing off the grime that’s built up on his body over the last few days. Once he’s finished, he dresses and heads to the living room

Thankfully, the room is fairly clean and ready for guests since the bedroom has pretty much been the only place of inhabitation since Louis left. So he simply straightens out the blanket and pillows on the couch and plops his weary body down onto it to wait for his guest’s arrival. He turns the television on, hoping to keep his rather chaotic mind otherwise occupied.

It isn’t long before the doorbell chimes and Harry sluggishly makes his way towards the front door. He’s been sleeping quite a lot the past few days but his rest has been anything but peaceful, what with the constant instances of him waking up and the chronic nightmares that pull at his heartstrings and that leave him too worked up to fall back asleep.

He unlocks the door and opens it to find a bright and cheerful face staring back at him. The blonde hair that had long ago become synonymous with his name had long since left, the boy’s natural brunette locks now making their appearance.

“Hey, mate!” the familiar light and thickness of the boy’s Irish accent resounds loudly through the house as he steps in.

“Hey, Niall,” Harry returns.

Niall gives him a one-armed but still tight hug since his other hand is busy holding a full case of beer. “Is Louis here? I didn’t see his car in the driveway.”

Harry shuts the door slowly and turns back reluctantly to face Niall. He was hoping to get at least a swig of beer down before his husband’s whereabouts were questioned. “Um, he’s uh, out.” _Real smooth, Harry_.

“Yeah, no shit,” Niall says as he starts to make his way to the kitchen, Harry following close behind. “Where’s ‘out’?” He opens the fridge and places four of the six beers inside, leaving out one for both himself and Harry.

So what if it’s only three in the afternoon? _Fuck it_.

Harry takes his respective beer and pops it open, taking a large swallow before answering. “He just went home for a couple days. Wanted to see his mum and sisters.”

Niall stares at him skeptically, opening his own drink. “Oh, okay. You didn’t want to go with him?” Niall’s right to be suspicious. Harry has always loved Jay and looked at her as his second mom. And Jay has always adored Harry, even joking once or twice how she wishes she had Harry as a son instead of Louis.

He shrugs and tries to twist his face into an expression of nonchalance. “Nah. I knew he wanted to spend some quality time with them so I just, you know, offered to stay home. I didn’t want to intrude, that’s all.”

Niall looks like he’s on the verge of arguing further but the pleading look in Harry’s eyes seems to change his mind. Niall shrugs, easily slipping back into the familiar ease of it all. “Alright.” He takes another swig. “So what d’you wanna do tonight? Movies? Take away? We could go out.”

Harry shakes his head violently. “No!” His voice comes out loud and sudden, clearly startling Niall. He takes a deep breath before continuing, trying to keep up his charade. “No I, uh, don’t really wanna go out. Can we just stay in?” Harry knows he sounds panicked but he doesn’t really care at this point. “Let’s just watch movies or something. I really don’t feel like going anywhere.”

And that’s the understatement of the century. Because just the thought of going out and being swept away in the London nightlife, getting lost in crowds of sweaty bodies, and drowning his sorrows in alcohol with eyes watching his every move is enough to tighten his chest and shorten his breath. He takes an undetectable deep breath, trying to calm his nerves without alerting Niall of his imminent breakdown. Niall, thankfully, is as oblivious as ever and agrees to stay in without so much as a counterargument. And Harry knows then that he reached out to the right person.

\---

The night carries on without incident for a remarkably long time. The two boys watch movies in relative silence, snarky comments well-placed and well-timed throughout their entireties. Niall has always been good like that. He never asks too many questions and he knows when Harry just wants to be a homebody and not talk more than is strictly necessary. They order Chinese takeaway and it arrives right as _The Theory of Everything_ is ending. Niall gets up to get the food and he soon returns with two full bags and two chilled beers.

“What should we watch now?” Harry asks as he begins to unpack the multiple cartons from the plastic bags.

“I don’t know about you but I’m in the mood for some cheesy lovey-dovey stuff.”

Harry’s movements immediately cease. He swallows thickly, clears his throat before saying, “No. No romance.”

Now it’s Niall’s turn to stand stock-still. “Since when is Harry Styles opposed to romance movies?”

Niall does have a point. Harry is always the one forcing the other boys, Louis especially, to watch the latest rom-com with him. And there had been a few bad colds or mundane insomniatic nights that had led to all-night Lifetime movie marathons. So _of course_ Harry turning down Niall’s offer would raise questions. Questions Harry doesn’t think he’s ready to answer. He should have just sucked it up and dealt with it. He could have even napped a little if it got to be too much for his fresh wounds. But he’d panicked and now he’d backed himself into a corner.

“I’m not in the mood, that’s all. Just drop it.”

Niall continues staring at him, seemingly waiting for Harry to crack. When Harry doesn’t budge, Niall whips around and turns the television off before turning back to face Harry. “If you don’t start being honest with me in the next ten seconds, I’m out of here and you better believe I’m taking what’s left of my beer with me.”

Harry has only seen Niall genuinely angry a handful of times so the attitude coming from him now is truly remarkable and truly terrifying.

“I said just drop it, Niall.” His voice is losing a lot of power and he knows Niall is figuring it out.

“Something happened,” Niall states in a defeated yet curious tone.

Harry doesn’t dare look at him as he nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Shit,” he hears Niall whisper before he makes his way back over to the couch. He plops down beside Harry whose head is still hanging down and places a hand gently on Harry’s shoulder.

And that’s all it takes for Harry to fall apart.

He inhales sharply, his chest caving in, his body folding in on itself. He knots his fingers into his hair and pulls, the anxiety overwhelming him. His cries are silent, no amount of noise able to communicate effectively just how much he’s hurting. He’s only half-aware of Niall wrapping him up into a hug, his panic attack making it impossible to focus on anything but the pain and the sensation of death. He’s gasping for air, for sustenance, for anything. He knows Niall has never been good at handling Harry when he’s gotten like this in the past so he’s thankful and relieved to see that Niall seems to be doing okay.

He’s not sure how long he cries. All he knows is that Niall doesn’t let go the entire time as he simply waits for Harry to collect himself. Eventually he does and his body relaxes into Niall’s hold, quiet hiccups and wet cheeks the only evidence of a breakdown.

“He cheated,” Harry eventually says, the words coming out a lot easier than he expected. Niall tenses considerably and Harry hopes he doesn’t let go because he’s still on the verge of falling apart. But, if anything, Niall only squeezes Harry tighter. “And I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Did you talk to him about it?” Niall asks, voice surprisingly even for someone who just heard about a cheating scandal. “Did he give any sort of explanation?”

Harry shrugs as much as he can in Niall’s tight grip. “He said he got scared.”

“Bullshit.” Niall’s voice is suddenly much louder than it was previously, causing the younger boy to flinch. “Scared of what? You guys have been together for over ten years. The fuck could scare him at this point?”

“It was about Dan, I guess. He left. Like, left his mum and sisters. And Louis and I had been talking about starting a family now that we’ve finally settled down and the band’s on hiatus. He just, like, said things about how he thought he was inevitably going to fuck it up because he’s never had a real father figure in his life. And he just didn’t want to put me through that.”

And suddenly Niall lets go, standing up from the couch and beginning to pace. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

Harry continues to watch him, unclear on what exactly is happening. “Niall, what’s going on?”

“This is all my fault,” Niall whispers and Harry’s unsure if he was meant to hear that. Regardless, he did. And now it’s time for Harry to question Niall.

“What’s all your fault?”

“What Louis said to you is exactly what he said to me. I… I knew what was going on. And I… oh god. I can’t believe this.”

“What the fuck happened, Niall?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head in disgust. “I told him not to tell you.” He opens his eyes then and meets Harry’s desperate gaze, tears swimming in his bright blues.

“Y-you knew he was… cheating on me?” Harry can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Niall shakes his head violently. “No! No, of course not. I just… I knew he was freaking out about the whole Dan thing. And he came to me and told me, you know, that he was scared the same thing was going to happen with you and him. But I… Jesus. I convinced him not to mention it to you. Oh God, I am such an idiot. I am so sorry Harry.”

Harry sighs. “Why did you not want him to tell me?” Harry isn’t mad at Niall. Honestly, he’s just really confused. “Why would you want him to keep something like that from me? Why would you encourage that?”

“I just… God, it’s so ironic now. But I told him not to tell you because I thought it would just cause all this drama and… shit. I’m such an idiot.” Niall rubs his hands anxiously over his teary eyes.

Harry shakes his head. “Niall… no. This… this isn’t your fault, okay? It’s not. This is on Louis.”

“Shit. What am I doing?  _I_  should be comforting  _you_ ,not the other way around,” Niall says as he rushes back over to Harry’s side and holds him again. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Both boys are openly crying now, holding onto each other. Harry feels like he’s drowning but Niall is slowly bringing him above the surface.

Eventually, the two manage to untangle and eat their Chinese food which has become lukewarm with time. But it still tastes good and, honestly, Harry would eat food off the floor at this point considering he’s barely made it to the kitchen at all the past three days. Niall ends up putting in another one of Louis’ superhero movies, the name of it not making its way into Harry’s mind. He’s exhausted and full, leaving little room for comprehension. After eating, he grabs the blanket from beside him, wraps it around himself, and rests his head on Niall’s lap. He shuts his eyes and is out cold in mere seconds.

Niall doesn’t even realize the boy’s fallen asleep until a few minutes later when Harry’s quiet snores start up, a sound Niall had certainly grown accustomed to from all their years sharing a tour bus. Niall looks down at Harry, face dimly lit by the television. It’s pitch black outside and Niall checks the analog above the television and notes it’s only 11pm. But the day has proven to be emotionally exhausting, making it seem much later than it actually is. Without jostling the slumbering boy too much, Niall maneuvers his body into a more comfortable half laying, half sitting position. Harry mumbles incoherently at the sudden movement and shifts a tad but otherwise shows no signs of awakening. Niall closes his eyes and soon finds his own body being pulled into the comfort of unconsciousness.

\---

It’s 1am and Louis can’t sleep. He’s lying in bed, a cool breeze blowing in through the open window. The air must smell like autumn but his cigarette smoke is making it impossible to tell. Jay would surely murder him if she found out he was smoking in the house but, honestly, he doesn’t even care. Let her scold her. Let her tear into him. God knows he deserves it.

He has his phone on his stomach, waiting and praying for it to go off. He stares longingly down at it, waiting for it to light up with the familiar name. But it doesn’t. And Louis can’t exactly say he’s surprised. It’s been three days, nearly four now, and Harry hasn’t so much as texted him. He knows he deserves the radio silence but it’s still unbearable. He hates this. He hates himself. He hates the whole situation. But what’s done is done. He fucked up and now he has to live with the consequences.

He just hopes Harry’s okay.

He blows out a long puff of smoke, the room engulfed in it. He’s surprised his mom hasn’t woken up from the smell and come to his room to berate him. Or, maybe she has woken up but knows better than to go off on her son at the moment.

There’s a timid knock at his door but he doesn’t even bother to put the cigarette out, the smell too strong to fool anyone. “Yeah?” he calls quietly before exhaling.

He’s expecting his mom to walk through the door so he’s nothing short of surprised when he sees Phoebe instead.

She visibly flinches and wrinkles her nose when she steps inside, the smell surely coming as a bit of a shock. “Can I come in?” she asks anyway.

Louis sits up slightly, propping himself against his headboard before nodding. “Sure, Pea.”

She quickly comes over to Louis’ bed, sitting down beside him. “Mum’s gonna kill you if she finds out you’re smoking.”

He takes another drag as he gives her a sidelong look. “Who said she’s gonna find out?”

She rolls her eyes. “I won’t tell, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not ten anymore. I know how to keep secrets. Well, most of the time.” She smirks in a way that reminds Louis so much of himself and he feels a sudden wave of affection for his little sister.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” he asks, not entirely sure why she came to his room in the first place.

She shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I don’t know,” she says on a sigh. “I’m just worried about you.”

He furrows his eyebrows as he slips his cigarette into his makeshift ashtray (aka a soda can filled with water), blowing out the last of the smoke. “You shouldn’t be worried about me, Pea. I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

If Louis wasn’t so miserable, he would have laughed at his  _little sister_ saying something like that. “Hey, hey, hey,” he scolds even though he’s pretty damn proud of her at the moment. “Why you calling bullshit?”

“For one, you’re smoking again.” She points to the nearly full can. “Two, you completely lost it as soon as you saw mum when you arrived. Three, you’ve barely left your room since you got here. Four, you…”

“Okay, okay,” Louis interjects then sighs. “Fine. I’m not okay. Happy?”

Phoebe looks at him with utmost sympathy. “Happy that you admitted there’s something wrong, yes. Not happy that I was right.”

Louis rubs his hands up and down his face, really not ready to have this conversation again.

“So’re you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

He looks at Phoebe then, amazed at how much his sister has matured in what seems like such a short amount of time. She’s sixteen, after all, and wise beyond her years. “I don’t want to put this on you, Pea. It’s not fair to you.”

She waves a hand to silence him. “Nonsense. C’mon. Lay it on me,” she says as she gives him a reassuring smile.

“I fucked up, Pea. I fucked up big time.”

Her determined gaze doesn’t falter. “What did you do?” she coaxes.

“I… I can’t tell you. I really can’t. And you’ve just gotta trust me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can’t say you fucked up and then not tell me what’s going on.”

He closes his eyes as he feels the tears beginning to pool up. “Phoebs, please. Don’t make me tell you. You’re gonna hate me.”

“Lou, look at me.” Her voice is suddenly strong and demanding, causing Louis to open his eyes. The tears flow down his cheeks as he meets her gaze once again. “You’re my big brother and I love you. Nothing will ever change that. You’ve always been there for me and now it’s time for me to be there for you. And no matter what you did, I could never hate you. I promise.”

And that little speech only makes the tears fall faster. Because his sister is the most beautiful, selfless, and compassionate person he knows. He knows he’s lucky to have her but she deserves so much better than him.

But he takes a deep breath and he tells her anyway. And after he’s done, she remains silent. She doesn’t say a word. All she does is hug him and hold him tight until they both fall asleep.

\---

It’s been four days since Niall came, seven since Louis left. Harry’s still miserable but slightly more engaged than he was on day one. Progress is progress no matter how seemingly insignificant.

He wakes up on the morning of the eighth day to the smell of bacon. His senses are immediately on high alert for two reasons. One, because Niall can’t cook to save his life so the kitchen is probably engulfed in smoke at this point. And two, because he can hear more than one voice in the kitchen.

His bedroom is too far away to make out who the other voice belongs to but he feels a rush of panic at the possibility that it could be Louis, back to talk to Harry. Because Harry’s just not ready, not even close. How dare he come back without so much as a warning? Harry is still fragile and certainly isn’t ready to discuss the future with Louis quite yet.

Niall has helped him a lot over the past few days but he’s still not ready. Not yet.

Slipping on a t-shirt, Harry slowly makes his way towards the kitchen to possibly face the man that turned his entire world upside down. But, when he steps through the doorway, he feels a huge weight lift off his shoulders.

Because it’s not Louis. It’s Gemma. She’s the one frying up the bacon, thank God, and Niall has his arms wrapped around her waist, chin resting against her shoulder.

He lets out a half sigh, half laugh which catches the couple’s attention. They both jerk their heads to look at Harry and Gemma beams.

“Hey, little brother,” she says.

Harry laughs again as he launches himself forward, wrapping himself up in her familiar grasp. “Oh God.” He starts to cry then, the fact that he still has any tears left shocking him. “God, Gemma, I missed you.”

It really hasn’t been that long since they saw each other, maybe a month at most, but he hadn’t realized he’d been craving her company until now. Now that she’s holding him, he can’t even bear the thought of letting go.

Gemma had been the first person to find out about him and Louis getting together all those years ago. Well, rather, she was the first one to figure it out. Because before Louis and Harry even realized that what they shared was more than just friendship, Gemma knew. So when Harry had called her, telling her about his feelings for the boy he was unsure felt the same way, Gemma had cut him off midsentence and told him to tell Louis because it was apparently so obvious that it made her sick.

So he did. He told Louis and they had kissed in secret that night at the X Factor house. It was quiet and uneventful but it was so beautiful and passionate. Harry longs to travel back to that cold night and do it all over again.

Because that’s the thing. No matter what the future holds for him and Louis, he wouldn’t change a single thing about their story and how everything played out. Because what they shared was something not many people got to experience in their lifetime. Regardless of how things are planning to play themselves out, Harry regrets nothing. And he really hopes Louis feels the same.

“Niall told me what happened. I just can’t believe it. I’m so sorry, Harry.” She squeezes tighter.

Harry sighs. “It’s okay. _I’m_ okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.” She pulls away then but keeps a firm grip on his biceps. “Louis betrayed you. Cheating just… isn’t okay, Harry. You realize that, right?”

He shrugs. “I-I know but…”

“No,” she cuts him off with a firm word. “No buts. Listen, I understand how hard this must be for you. You two have been through… so much. More than any couple should have to go through. But you can’t be blinded by all that. What Louis did was shitty. He fucked up so bad, Harry. Do you understand that?” Gemma asks him in a way that only a big sister could. It’s a tad demeaning but not enough to be hurtful.

He nods. “Yeah. I get it. It’s just… God, it’s _Louis_. I don’t know how to stay mad at him,” he says to which Gemma smiles sadly in response.

“We’re not asking you to stay mad at him,” Niall interjects as he walks over.

Gemma nods. “He’s right. We’re not asking you to hate him for the rest of your life. And we’re not saying that this is gonna end your marriage. Because I know you two and I know neither of you is going to back down without a fight. All I’m saying is you need to look at this from a fresh perspective, you know? Be mad at him. Be angry. Be frustrated. Just feel what you’re supposed to feel. And once you get through that then you two can talk about moving forward.” She rubs her hands up and down against Harry’s biceps. “But until then, you’re stuck with us. And we’re gonna make sure you’re okay.”

Harry smiles then and wraps Gemma up once again. Their embrace is broken by the piercing wail of the fire alarm.

“Shit,” Gemma hisses. She rushes back over to the oven where the now blackened bacon lays in the pan.

Harry laughs. “Niall, your wife is useless. Why the hell did you marry her?”

Niall shrugs. “Because she’s hot,” he says without missing a beat.

“Oi! You’re such a shithead,” she argues back as she dumps the charred bacon into the trash.

Harry sighs happily. “It’s nice to have you back, Gem.”

\---

It isn’t until three days later, in the middle of the night, when Harry “feels what he’s supposed to feel”.

He’s not entirely sure what triggers it. All he knows is that when he returns to his room after making a midnight trip to the bathroom, he feels it. He takes one look at the half slept in bed and he loses it. Harry almost never gets angry and he certainly isn’t a violent person. But tonight, the circumstances are a tad bit different than they’ve ever been.

One minute, he’s standing at the foot of the bed with his fists clenched and the next, he’s got two pairs of arms wrapped around him, holding his thrashing body back. He doesn’t feel anything. He’s numb and not entirely coherent.

He can slightly hear two voices calling out to him that probably belong to the two people holding him, their voices sounding as if they are coming from the end of a mile-long tunnel. His eyes are shut, hot and angry tears falling down his flushed cheeks. His hands are still wrapped up in fists, his knuckles starting to throb and sting as he starts to come back to the here and now. He doesn’t realize he’s screaming, wailing, sobbing until his throat starts to ache and feel as if it’s on fire. His body is still flailing, barely being held back by who he now realizes is Gemma and Niall. Eventually, he loses the fight. Every limb goes completely limp, muscles weak and lax. Harry feels every part of him, body and mind, surrender to his pain. He’s letting out heart wrenching sobs that have got both Gemma and Niall in tears. He’s screaming out words such as “why” and “Louis” and “liar” which are barely understandable amidst his cries of agony.

Gemma and Niall lower him to the floor, Harry slumping mostly against Gemma’s body. They continue to hold him until he starts to gain control of his breathing again, his eyes still closed. They rub his back and stroke comforting hands through his hair as he begins to settle down. Eventually, after what seems like hours of chaos, Harry goes completely limp and his breaths become slower and deeper, signifying that he’s fallen asleep.

The couple share a look over Harry’s head and both sigh in relief in synchronization. Carefully, they maneuver around until they each have a solid grip on him before lifting him up with little difficulty. The poor boy has lost a lot of weight since Louis left, eating falling to the bottom of his priority list the minute Louis walked away. They place him gingerly in bed, settling him in and covering him up. As they start to walk away, quiet whimpers can be heard coming from the bed and they immediately turn around and head back to Harry. The couple crawl into bed, bodies on either side of the boy. They both put a hand on Harry’s stomach, connecting their own fingers for comfort.

Eventually, the entire household is at rest.

Harry wakes up the next morning in an empty bed. He opens his eyes blearily and squints in the bright morning light. He sits up then and looks around in confusion. His room has been trashed, papers scattered all around, bookshelves toppled over, lamps shattered. Did _he_ do that? He doesn’t remember anything that happened last night. All he knows is his room certainly didn’t look like this when he went to bed.

He makes his way into the living room where he can hear Gemma and Niall talking, most likely about him. As soon as they see him, they both shoot up from their positions on the couch and make their way over to him quickly. He soon finds himself in a Gemma and Niall sandwich, not that he would ever complain about such an event.

“What happened last night?” he whispers, words muffled by their bodies.

Gemma gives a sad laugh. “You felt what you needed to feel.”

When they let go, he stares them down with his gaze flickering back and forth between the two of them. He sighs and closes his eyes before saying, “I need to see him.”

Gemma immediately turns her gaze to Niall, searching for the appropriate response. “Harry, I really don’t think that would-”

Harry cuts her off. “Well, I don’t care what you think. I’m going to see him whether you want me to or not.”

She looks back at him, swallowing nervously. She nods once. “Okay,” she says in surrender. “Go get dressed and we’ll meet you at the car.”

He shakes his head. “No, I… I need to go by myself. Please. And you’ve done enough for me already. Just, please, let me do this on my own. I’m a grown man.” He may be grown but his argument still sounds like a desperate plea.

Gemma and Niall exchange worried glances before they both shrug.

“Alright,” Niall replies. “We trust you. Just be careful, okay?”

Harry smiles slightly before letting the two of them hug him individually. “I will. I promise.”

\---

He stands on the familiar front porch of the Tomlinson household for several minutes, trying to summon the courage to ring the doorbell.

It’s been a while since he’s been to this house, the rest of Louis’ family enjoying spending time at Louis and Harry’s place much more than their own. It’s nearing 3pm now, the sun doing little to warm the October air. He’s bundled up in a warm sweatshirt but he’s still shivering, not entirely sure if it’s from the cold, his anxiety, or a combination of both.

Eventually, he heaves a shaky sigh and finally manages to ring the doorbell. As soon as he hears the charming sound, however, he almost immediately turns around and runs straight back to his car. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He can’t be here. He can’t do this. It’s too soon. He’s not ready. What was he thinking?

Before he’s given a chance to back down, however, the door opens. Jay’s friendly face looks out at him; a comforting glow comes from the inside. Her smile drops slightly when she sees Harry, however, and okay _now_ he’s seriously going to throw up. But he swallows it down and gives her the best smile he can muster with hands shoved deep into his pants’ pockets.

“H-hi Jay,” he stammers.

“Harry. Um, hi. Sorry. I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she returns. God, Harry really has missed his mother-in-law. She’s always been so loving and has adored Harry since the moment she met him. He wonders how she’s been dealing with her son’s infidelity. On his drive there, he had been wondering whether or not Louis had told her everything but now, looking at the clear sympathy on her face, he realizes she knows.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat nervously. “Sorry to just drop by like this. I know I should have called.”

She waves her hands to stop him. “Nonsense. You’re always welcome, honey. Come in, come in. It’s freezing out here.”

He nods and steps foot inside, the familiar smell of the house bringing him an overwhelming sense of comfort. He pulls his hands out of his pockets and gives Jay a proper hug as soon as she shuts the door behind him.

“Louis’ in the kitchen,” she whispers, pulling back and giving him an understanding look.

He smiles quickly and makes his way towards the place where his husband obliviously waits. When he walks into the kitchen, he sees Louis standing at the stove. He’s stirring something, steam coming up all around him.

“Who was at the door, mum?” Louis asks without turning around. He wipes his hands on a dish towel before turning to face who he assumes is his mom. When his eyes meet Harry’s, his jaw drops. He blinks a few times, almost as if he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

The two stand the closest they’ve been in weeks for a few minutes in silence, neither boy knowing what to say. Eventually, Jay makes her way into the kitchen and looks between the two soundless boys. “Louis, why don’t you take Harry upstairs? I’ll take care of dinner.”

Louis nods, finally breaking out of his stupor. “Y-yeah. Um, yeah, okay.” He walks past Harry out of the kitchen, the latter boy following behind noiselessly.

Louis leads them into his room and shuts the door once Harry’s made his way inside. Harry looks around, taking in the room he hasn’t been in in what feels like years. Everything is exactly the way he remembers it- an unmade bed, posters of footballers and The Fray taped up on the dark blue walls, clothes scattered all along the floor. Harry sits down on the bed unprompted as Louis leans his body against the door.

“You’re here,” Louis says in a mere whisper, as if saying this out loud will suddenly make Harry vanish like the mirage he is.

Harry looks over at him and nods. “I am. I-I needed to see you.” He realizes then just how tired the older boy looks, glasses covering practically grey eyes that are above dark purple circles that indicate insomnia.

“And why’s that?” Louis asks, fear overtaking his tone.

“I think we have some things to talk about,” Harry says.

“No. We don’t,” Louis replies, crossing his arms.

Harry blanches. “Um, yeah, I think we do.”

Louis shakes his head. “ _We_ don’t have anything to talk about. But _I_ have some things I need to say. And _you_ are going to listen.”

The younger boy shows the hint of a smile as a result of his husband’s stubbornness, a trait Harry’s happy didn’t end up vanishing with age like many people predicted. He nods, signaling for Louis to continue.

Louis sighs before crossing the room and sitting down on the bed beside Harry. He reaches out a wary hand, watching Harry’s face the entire time to see if he is crossing an unspoken boundary, and begins carding it through his husband’s hair. Harry visibly relaxes with the touch. No one has ever been able to play with his hair the way Louis has.

“I fucked up, Harry. I fucked up so bad. And I know I don’t deserve you. I know you deserve someone a thousand times better than me. But I can’t let this go. I can’t give up on us. And maybe I’m just selfish, I don’t know. Well, of course I am because I did something that doesn’t deserve to be forgiven yet here I am begging for you to forgive me. God, I don’t deserve you. I said that already, didn’t I? I’m not making sense, am I? I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore. I just… what I’m trying to say is I’m-I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. Nothing I ever say will make this better. I know that but I’m saying it anyway. I’m sorry, Harry. I love you so much and I just don’t want my giant mistake to fuck this up. We’ve been through so much, babe, and I can’t stand the thought of letting you go. And I understand if you can’t forgive me because I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself. But I’m sorry… again. And I know nothing I say will ever be enough so I, uh, I hope my actions will.”

Harry stares at him wordlessly, a million thoughts wanting to be communicated. But before he can say anything in response, Louis pushes himself off the bed and makes his way over towards his desk. Harry watches him as he rifles through a stack of papers in a drawer before he, presumably, finds what he’s looking for.

He comes back to sit beside Harry and hands him the papers. Harry glances down at them and skims over the words in confusion.

And then he realizes what he’s holding.

He brings a shaky hand up to cover his mouth as tears begin to form for what seems like the hundredth time since this whole thing began. He looks up at Louis then, unable to breathe or form a proper sentence. A single word comes out. “Adoption?”

Louis’ eyes are teary as well and he nods. “Yeah. I spent a lot of time thinking while I was here and… and I know what I want now.”

Harry removes his hand and smiles a watery smile. “And what is that?”

“I want you. And I want a family. I don’t want anything else.” He sniffles. “Now, we’ve still got awhile before anything is finalized and we can actually adopt but the process is underway.”

“You’re sure you want this?” Harry ventures.

Louis smiles. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I want it with you. If you’ll still have me, that is.”

Harry doesn’t even bother responding. All he does is kiss his beautiful husband.

The fight is far from over and discussions still need to be had but here, in this moment, Harry can think of nothing else besides Louis and the way his lips feel against his.

And even ten years into a tumulus relationship, his lips still feel like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Twitter (@cherishedlarry) and Tumblr (realizedyouweremissing). Be sure to leave feedback. I love reading and responding to comments. xx


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